Rhythm Thief and the Currently Nameless Sequel
by LittleBrotherSocket
Summary: CAUTION: CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS. Everything seems to have returned to normal in the busy city of Paris, but will the reappearance of a certain someone change that? What grand adventure lies in store for France's finest? Find out in *insert snazzy title here*.
1. Chapter 1 - Before the Ball

The wind swirled in cool bursts through the streets of Paris, intermingling with the humid air. With it flowed the blend of city noises, a thousand different sounds rising up into the clear, blue sky that hovered above the late afternoon crowd. Within this chorus hung the bright, joyful melody of a song, drifting like a dove amidst the tangled mess of caws and breys-the cries of street vendors, the clanging of automobiles, and the consistent murmur of blissfully ignorant tourists on their merry summer holidays.

It was on days like this that Marie loved to stand in the park and play her violin, letting her music join in harmony with the birds as she swayed back and forth with the rhythm of the breeze. This is precisely what she was doing on this particular day, oblivious to all other obligations, hardly noticing the passerby that stopped to enjoy her gift before moving on, nor would she have cared if she had been aware of their admiration. Nothing could draw her from the dreamy world in which she dwelt. Besides, she had to practice.

The thought presented itself to her repeatedly, doing its best to distract her from her joy, but she shook it away each time. After all, she had no need to be nervous. It was only one song, and she had practiced it day after day until, finally, she was entirely confident in the complicated piece. If anything, she looked forward to the night ahead. It wasn't every day that a girl was to attend a ball, and she had prepared herself for the event nearly as much as she had for the solo she had been asked to perform.

She only wished... but she knew it was in vain. He had been gone for over a year now, and it was no use wishing anymore. She had to move on. Even so, her heart ached at the memory of his hand in hers, and she subconsciously dropped the violin from beneath her chin, sighing in despair.

As if it felt the void left by the abrupt interruption, the city produced another sound-one far less enchanting. "Father," a young girl stated firmly, "I will not allow it." She crossed her arms and stood, her face turned upward in determination, her fiery, green eyes rested on her father as he studied the pages of the day's paper.

"I am done discussing this, Charlotte," he sighed in exasperation. "There is no room for debate, and that is final. It is a great deal to be invited to such an occasion, and you should be honored to attend."

"But, father," she moaned, "what is so honorable about it?" She plopped down on the sofa, causing her hair to rise and fall, sympathizing with her despondency. "It's nothing but a bunch of old men in suits, tripping over the heels of desperate, middle-aged women who never quite found Prince Charming."

The inspector's stern brow crinkled as he scolded, "You know full well that this is a very exclusive event, hosted by the Duchess Elizabeth herself. I told her we would be glad to attend, and so we shall."

Charlie shoved her head into her palm, slumping over, muttering, "At least half of us will."

He cast a burning glance at his stubborn daughter. "You will attend the Dutchess' ball tonight," he snapped sharply, "and you will be presentable. Now, go buy yourself something to wear. I will not have you tramping about in your ridiculous getup. This conversation is officially ended, Charlotte. "

He began to stamp away, fuming. "It's 'Charlie,'" she mumbled under her breath.

Her father halted, then turned to face her once again. "Impertinent child..."

* * *

Marie's afternoon flew by quickly, leaving her just enough time to put the finishing touches on her hair before she was beckoned downstairs. Every inch of her was tingling with excitement as she stepped gently down the stairs, her flowing, blue gown floating along behind her as her white heels clicked on the hard floor. "You look lovely, ma chérie," her mother smiled at her as she joined her in the hallway outside the ballroom.

Marie returned the gesture, then stared at the double doors before her. Her stomach began to turn, and a surge of worry swept over her as she listened to the hum of guests' chatter behind the polished wood. Her mother put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, as she whispered softly, "You'll do fine. Play it for him."

"Raphael..." Marie breathed longingly. Her words evaporated into the air and, as she inhaled deeply, filled her with renewed confidence. The murmur in the next room was hushed, making way for a single voice, which, after thanking all invitees for their gracious acceptance, announced the entrance of "the grand Duchess Elizabeth and her talented daughter, Marie."

Marie emerged onto the small stage, following her mother closely, glancing at each member of the orchestra as she passed. "Talented daughter..." The words troubled her nerves. "Now they expect something from me," she thought to herself. "What if I don't do well enough for them?"

She gazed over the audience as the announcer prepared them for her solo, ensuring them again and again of the wondrous treat that awaited them. So many important individuals stood, watching her, and her heart cowered at the scene. At last, the speaker ended his speech with a flourish, exiting the stage with the Duchess close behind, leaving the girl alone on the center platform. Her violin was placed into her trembling hands, steadied only slightly by Alfred's comforting glance, and she lifted the instrument to her chin, bringing the bow upon the strings in unsure readiness.

Then she paused, studying the guests, all of whom stared right back at her in expectation. Suddenly, a blue-clad figure caught her attention, and she fixed her sapphire eyes on his. They were copper, shaded by a lock of red hair that lay across his forehead, and looking into hers like those of a mind reader. Something in them seemed to say, "It's okay. You don't have to be good enough for them. You'll always be good enough for me. " Her heart fluttered for a moment. Was it really him? No... no, it couldn't be. It was just her imagination again. A single tear formed itself in her eye, sparkling as the light shone upon it. She would play for him, wherever he may be.

She drew her bow back as the applause faded, shut her eyes tight, and began. A lone, pure note suffused across the room, filling every heart with awe. The song was complicated and forebodingly fast-paced, but Marie flew through it almost effortlessly. When she had played the last bar, a great cheer rose to the high ceiling, and the girl blushed a bit at the praise of the adoring multitude. She had done well, and her face was beaming as she lowered her violin and curtsied. As she looked up, however, her spirits sank as her imagination failed her. Phantom R was gone.


	2. Chapter 2 - Seeing Phantoms

Marie set her violin in its black, velvet-lined chamber, securing the bow in its place. The drop that had brimmed in her eye now fell upon tne smooth wood of her beloved companion as she stroked it affectionately.

Just beyond the stage, much of the crowd had moved on with their business, dancing, conversing, and drinking punch, but more than a few lingered idly about, obviously waiting to compliment the young musician. She didn't want to talk to them. She was far from interested in anything they had to say. She just wanted one person... but she couldn't have him, and he wouldn't want her to let her spoil the evening.

She shut the lid with conviction, hiding beneath it her instrument and her sorrowful thoughts. This was not the place for them. Inhaling shakily, she turned to face her admirers, putting on a pretend smile until a real one coaxed itself onto her lips.

* * *

Inspector Vergier walked confidently through the urbane setting, Charlie tagging similarly along at his shoulder. She felt sort of out of place in such grand surroundings, but she supposed she looked enough like the rest in her disgustingly pink dress, bouncing around obnoxiously with each stride of her long legs.

Everything inside her still resented the fact that her father had forced her to come to this ridiculous party when she could be out doing better things. She could be finishing up "Ender's Game," as stupid as the book was, doing something stupid with Dakota, or challenging...

"Urbain?!" She stared in shock as the boy turned towards her, his blue-green eyes growing wide.

"Charlie?!" He blinked twice in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

The girl abandoned her bewildered father, crossing towards her archenemy, trying not to seem too relieved to see him. He covered the remaining distance between them, leaving behind the cluster in which he had been standing.

"I've been wondering that all night," she complained, glancing about at the puffed-up bunch of buffoons in their bow ties and diamonds. Suddenly, she remembered what she was wearing, and looked down at the long, tulle-covered skirt that hung around her ankles, then back at Urbain. She hadn't noticed it before, but he was dressed up as well, sporting a slick, black jacket and slacks, a white shirt underneath, and a teal neck-tie. He looked... nice. She couldn't deny that.

"I mean," he retorted, "who are you here with? This party's supposed to be for important people." He smirked, proud of his insult.

Just then, their bantering was interrupted by a calm regal voice. "Ah," the Duchess smiled. "Urbain, I see you've met Charlotte, the Inspector's daughter." Urbain nodded once, lifting a mocking eyebrow at Charlie as she pursed her lips, suppressing her irritation at the woman's faux pas. Another woman stood with her, as well as Charlie's father. "I had a feeling," she continued, "that the pair of you would get along handsomely, judging by what I've seen from you. I suppose I was right."

The two shared a quick glance, then stood silently. They couldn't very well tell the Duchess Elizabeth that she was wrong, but she definitely wasn't right either, so they concluded that silence was the most prudent reply. After a moment, the blonde woman at Elizabeth's side spoke up, answering for the children. "Of course they do, don't you Urbain? In fact," she took a swift look at the couples spread across the dance floor, "why don't you ask her for a dance?"

At once, the two pairs of eyes grew large. Charlie bit her lip as Urbain gave the woman, who apparently was his mother, a pleading look, which was quickly snuffed by her authoritative expression. There was nothing to be done. They couldn't cause a scene in polite company such as this, and they certainly couldn't shame their parents in front of the Duchess.

With a heavy sigh, Urbain turned to face his enemy, extending a cordial hand to her. "How about it, Charlie?" He offered up a sort of nervous, sad smile. Charlie looked to her father for an escape, but found nothing but an urging gesture. With no other option, she put her hand in Urbain's, and the two stepped out into the center of the room, the snickers of the adults behind them.

Both Charlie's and Urbain's cheeks burned bright pink as they faced each other, the light of the chandelier above glowing upon them. Reluctantly, they locked their hands, and the girl moved forward to place her hand on the boys shoulder. His hand on her waist surprised her, and she sucked in her breath sharply. Both of them winced, still blushing, and then began to move slowly to the soothing orchestrations.

For a while, they did not dare speak a word, so awkward was their situation, but their silence seemed only seemed to worsen their mortification. Eventually, Charlie couldn't take it anymore, and so ventured to complete their interrupted conversation.

"Anyway," she began, trying to sound as cool as possible, "my dad happens to be head inspector of the Paris Constabulary, as you know very well. How did you manage to sneak in?"

"Huh. Didn't know that qualified for a double invitation to something like this," the boy sneered, his blush fading gradually. "As a matter of fact, my mother is... she's, uh... in a relationship with somebody important."

"Ha," the girl scoffed. "So she's not even the important one. It's her boyfriend."

"Yeah..." Urbain groaned, crinkling his nose in disgust. "He's such an idiot too, but he's rich. I guess that's enough for her."

Charlie couldn't help but laugh at his comment. "At least you get something out of the whole ordeal. Who is her boyfriend, anyway?"

"Eh, he's the city's treasurer or something. Nothing big."

"Please tell me you're kidding."

He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. "Why should I be?"

Before she could answer, a figure appeared out of nowhere, attracting her eyes instantly. He stood far off, peering at her from between two bodies, but she'd recognize that face, that costume, those enragingly slick mannerisms anywhere.

Just as soon as she saw him, he was gone. Urbain looked over his shoulder, then back at her. "What is it, Charlie? Seen a ghost?"

"More like a phantom..." Her words trailed off, and her mouth hung open. It couldn't have been him... Could it?


	3. Chapter 3 - The Phantom Appearance

As the song ended and another promised to begin, several of the ladies that were gathered around Marie were escorted to the dance floor by proper gentlemen. The others parted between joining another cluster and standing about, hoping for a partner, leaving Marie alone on the sidelines. She stood, watching the couples spin and sway across the slick marble. With each motion, her mind traveled back to another time; to the moonlight twinkling in his eyes, the rhythmic clap of his feet on the floor, the squeeze of his fingers around hers. Everything reminded her of him.

It was impossible now to hold back the tears. They swelled up and began pouring down her cheeks, slowly at first, then uncontrollably, accompanied by a gentle sobbing. Lowering her face, she retreated from the sight of potential onlookers, heading for the doors that led into the hallway.

As she stretched her hand out to turn the brass knob, someone grabbed it, thrusting her into an involuntary twirl. She gasped in shock and tried to step away, but instead found herself caught in a pair of strong arms, her own laid against a white-covered chest. Dazed, her wet eyes stared up into a pair of playful, amber ones, her small nose only inches from his.

"Raphael,"she breathed, her lips quivering. So it hadn't been her imagination. It was really him. He had returned at last.

"Marie." Her eyes lit up at the sound of his voice. It had been so long since she had heard its melodic tune, and it melted her heart as it met her ears.

They stood for a moment, frozen in time, looking into each others eyes. As they held each other close, everything else seemed to fade away. The music, the lights, the guests, all of it was suddenly gone, fading into the distance. Everything was perfect.

Then, with one swift motion, the Phantom brought the girl with him into the long, empty hallway, shutting the door behind them. He bent his head slightly, his fedora shadowing his face as he looked Marie over. "Just as beautiful as ever," he smiled.

The girl remained speechless, unable to find words appropriate to the befuddled blur that was her thoughts. She just stared at him, a mixture of confusion and bliss boiling inside of her. At last, she did what most girls do when they don't know what to do. She began to cry.

Raphael's smile disappeared, and his expression bore the perfect image of bewilderment. "Hey," he said softly, placing a hand on her cheek, "it's okay. I'm here now." Although he didn't understand the cause of her tears, he continued to console her, rubbing them gently away with his thumb.

Unexpectedly, she pulled away from him, shaking her head. "No," she rejected, "you can't just waltz in here and act like you've been here all the time." The streams burned hot as they flowed down her cheeks. She clasped her hands above her heart, guarding it from any more hurt.

At last, he understood. "Marie..." he almost whispered, his eyes shimmering with the pain of seeing her cry. "Marie, I'm sorry. I wanted to be with you, honestly, but... I couldn't risk endangering you again. Please try to understand." In a final effort, he stretched out his arms, desperately pleading for her to accept his apology.

In answer, she broke down, throwing herself into his embrace, burying her face into his shoulder. "Yes, Raphael. I understand."

He smiled in contentment, pulling her nearer to himself, placing an affectionate hand on the back of her head, stroking the soft, golden hair.

"So," she inquired, after they had finished their long reunion, "why are you here now?"

Eyebrows lowering, mouth stiffening, the Phantom's tone grew very serious. "I've come to ask for your help."


	4. Chapter 4 - The Painting

Charlie leaned her back against the corner wall, fondling the heart-shaped locket that hung from her neck.

"Take good care of it, Charlotte," her father had told her many years ago, his hands folding over hers, the locket held within the protective chamber. "Your mother wanted you to have this. Don't let anything happen to it." Her childish gaze looked up into his serious face, and she nodded.

Opening the golden hatch, she peered inside to see a picture of her mother, her eyes shining, her soft face glowing with a beautiful smile, sitting beside her sister, a dark-haired woman with deep, amber eyes. Both girls were around Charlie's age, wrapping their arms around one another in love. Although she had seen the photograph a million times, Charlie still loved to gaze upon it, to study it, to look for traces of herself in her mother, to wonder what her aunt had been like. It was one of her greatest treasures.

She sighed, closing the locket as she turned to watch the people around her, dancing, laughing, talking, all of them seeming so happy. She wished she could just go home.

* * *

Across the room, Raphael peeked through the double doors, scoping out a possible route. He had to search the entire room, but he couldn't very well go parading about as Phantom R, nor could he get away with his casual street clothes. He had to find another way to blend in with the crowd...

"So," Marie whispered, "you just need to find the painting, right?"

He nodded in absent-minded reply.

"Well... Why don't I go find it for you?"

Raising his eyebrows, he turned to her, looking very thoughtful, and then shook his head. "That could work, but what would the guests think of the Dutchess' daughter stealing art? Besides," he added, "you wouldn't know exactly what to look for."

"So, why do you need my help?"

He sighed, giving her an uneasy feeling. "...Do you think you could get me a waiter's uniform?"

It wasn't long before the boy was suited-up in a black jacket, slacks, and a white shirt, with a red bow tie to bring it all together. Seeing him in this outfit, which happened to be just a bit big on his trim figure, Marie couldn't help giggling. The sleeves crumpled in the places with extra fabric, the coat's tail hung awkwardly low, and the pant legs bagged over his shoes. It was cute.

"Now," she said, after she had finished in her amusement, "what do you me to do?"

It had now been a half-hour, and still Charlie stood by the wall, anticipating the end of the festivities. No one really came by, the entire crowd occupied with usual party business, but she sort of liked it that way. She waited alone with a wall, a potted plant, and a painting.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle," came a flirtatious tone.

She sighed. So, it was not to last. A young, ginger waiter, most likely no more than a year beyond her own age, had meandered over to her little corner. She faced him, about to ask what he wanted, but stopped as she met his eyes. Just as she was thinking that they looked extremely familiar, they grew wide in shock, looking from her to the painting, and then back again, a wave of concern rushing over his cool demeanor.

Suddenly, the ballroom erupted into a loud ringing, silencing the orchestra as it flooded across the floor. Screams rose from all around as individuals covered their ears, looking for the source of the alarm.

Before Charlie could react, the waiter beside her had transformed into none other than the notorious Phantom R, and was quickly dashing away with the painting from the wall.

"It's you!" She called after him as he vanished into the confused mob. Within seconds, she was in hot pursuit, dodging skirts and shoes as she rushed through the sea of bodies. "You won't get away this time!" Her shouts were lost in the blaring call of the alarm, and the Phantom danced on, sliding, spinning, and leaping across the mess of chaos.

Finally, he emerged into the hallway, pausing only for a moment. "Well done with the alarms, Marie," he commended, hardly out of breath. "Come on!" He scooped her up into his arms and, together, they dashed away, the painting in tow, Fondue panting behind them.


	5. Chapter 5 - Operation: Pointless

**Sorry this update was so long in coming. It's been a busy summer, especially with other fanfics to write, other fandoms to obsess over, and so on. Hope you enjoy this chapter just the same!**

* * *

The lock clicked as the key turned. Raphael turned the knob slowly, so as not to wake any sleeping neighbors, then slipped inside his apartment, his three companions-a girl, a dog, and a mysterious portrait-at his side. As he switched the lights on, Marie was surprised to see him suddenly changed into his casual attire. She never could wrap her mind around his ability to rotate between disguises to quickly, but found herself smiling just the same.

"Well," he said, propping the painting against the pale wall, "welcome back."

His canine friend, having not yet had a proper chance, greeted their guest with an open-mouthed grin and a cheerful "Woeuf!" Marie responded with a giggle and an affectionate tousle of the dog's ears.

Drifting through the unnatural glow of the overhanging lamp, Raphael approached a wooden bookshelf and, giving his friend an nostalgic glance, remembering the day he had first introduced her to his secret life, pulled down on the binding of a single book. As it tilted out of its place in the array of literature, two shelves parted, opening the way to the basement. He began to escort the blonde down the staircase into his hidden cavern, then stopped, looked her in the eye and echoed back the words he had spoken over a year ago. "Don't tell anyone."

* * *

"Father! Father!" Charlie rushed across the ballroom, glad that she had chosen to wear her sneakers, rather than clunking around in heels.

Inspector Vergier stood near the front platform, looking out upon the squad of constables scattered about the room. He wore a grim expression on his face as his daughter approached.

"Not now, Charlotte," he frowned. "The Duchess' daughter is missing. This is no time for your games."

This infuriated the girl, and she clenched her fists as she spoke. "I know! I know more than you know, because I saw-"

"Enough, Charlotte!" He turned on her, his patience run short. "What you think is of no consequence. This is no place for a child. Go home."

As he turned away, Charlie stood in enraged shock, then stomped out towards the door, but not before a low grumble reached her ears. "Impertinent child..."

Casting one last blazing glance over her shoulder, she ran from the cursed chamber, out into the night air. She slowed as she reached the front of the building, then began to pace back-and-forth, mumbling to herself. "Fine," she fumed. "If he doesn't want my help, I will not give it. I can solve this case myself. I will apprehend Phantom R. I don't need that stuck-up, idiotic, worthless-"

"Ahem."

Charlie whirled around to see where the sound had come from, and was met by a pair of turquoise eyes.

"Urbain." She stared at him in mortification. He stared right back at her, smirking as usual.

"So," he half-laughed, "this is why you're always so mad. Your father won't accept your help." He finished these words with a slight chuckle, bringing his opponent's cheeks to a boiling pink.

"I don't need him, anyway. It's his loss if he would rather waste time than be reasonable."

"What makes you say that?"

"I saw Phantom R."

Urbain's eyes lost their mocking tint, intently widening. "Here?"

"Yes. He was disguised as a waiter, and I watched him steal a painting." She leaned against the brick wall with a sigh of defeat.

Her enemy let out a single "Ha," and she looked at him in sharp inquiry. "I was just thinking," he smiled, his voice having lost every trace of teasing. "How long do you think it's going to take for your father to figure out that the painting's gone?"

Charlie couldn't help but smile at the thought. "Probably a few days, at least."

* * *

Raphael carried the original portrait upstairs, setting it on his desk, then placed the newly-acquired counterfeit beside it. Marie sat on the white-covered bed, smoothing down the skirt of her dress. Pushing desk chair out of the way, the master thief began to carefully remove the canvases from their identical frames, flicking the desk light to life as he did so.

For the next hour, he stood, hunched over the table, carefully studying each stroke of the portraits before him, looking for even the subtlest difference. The woman in the picture was thin, pale, and delicate, her blue eyes staring coolly at the boy as he worked. Upon her next rested a pendant bearing a mysterious symbol-the symbol that had drawn Raphael to the piece.

He examined the painting once, and then again, but could not detect a single anomaly in the counterfeit. The two were exactly the same.

"Hm..." He put his fingers across his chin, giving the masterpieces a final once-over.

"Is something wrong?" Marie stood, joining Raphael at the desk.

"I'm just not sure why my father left a clue on this painting. I thought there might be an inconsistency-something that would tell me where to go next-but... they're exactly the same." He perked up suddenly. "At least," he corrected, reaching down to grab the painting's sides, "the fronts are the same."

Smiling now, he flipped the work over, letting his hands slide down the edges as he began to examine the blank surface. He did the same to the counterfeit, then began his inspection.

After several moments, he snapped his fingers. "Marie," he said, and air of excitement and suspense in his voice, "do you notice anything different between the backs?"

She looked over both canvases, desperate to find what he had noticed. "I... I don't see any difference." She turned to him, sort of ashamed, but mainly just curious.

He smiled reassuringly. "That's because... there isn't any difference." At this, Marie's face became obviously bewildered. "There's no visible difference, anyway."

With that, her confusion found its peak, and she stared at him blankly.

Finding her rather adorable when clueless, his grin broadened, his cheeks flushing a light pink. "Let me show you." As she watched, he stepped away from the table, traveling to the door and opening it in a smooth motion, ending with an arm outstretched towards her.

"First, we need to take a little trip."


	6. Chapter 6 - At the End of the Day

The footsteps clattered on the pavement, bouncing off of shops, carts, and restaurants, most of which were closing for the night. It had been nearly an hour since Phantom R's classic getaway, but still Charlie dashed through the streets, searching for the criminal.

All around, the windows reflected the radiant moonlight above, surrounded by the company of starry hosts. The desperate girl hardly noticed the beautiful scenery, so focused was she on her mission. She turned down every street, scouring every inch of Paris, quietly scolding herself.

"How could I have let him get away? How could I have been so foolish? Phantom R, I swear, if I find you, I'll put you behind bars before you can say 'Showtime.'"

Suddenly, she found herself face-to-face with the pavement. Fortunately, her toned reflexes had allowed her to catch herself on her hands, and her aggressive play style had inured her to the pain of falling, but the irritation was in no way lessened. As she stood, cursing the dreadful gown that had caused her to fall, she looked to the sky, shaking an angry fist at the black abyss.

"Where are you, Phantom R?!"

* * *

"The market?" Marie looked at Raphael in confusion as they stood outside a produce store, the curtains drawn shut over the large, glass windows.

In reply, he winked, tilting his head. "I need to pick up a few things."

"But," she said, lowering her voice, "all the shops are closed. You can't get inside." She looked up and down the streets, empty aside from the two of them-three, counting Fondue. Turning back to Raphael, she started. He was no longer Raphael, but had switched into his Phantom R guise once again.

Tipping his hat, he gave her a sideways glance. "Raphael can't, but Phantom R, on the other hand..." He spun around, walking slowly away from her.

"No!" Covering her hand with her mouth, she grabbed his shoulder. He looked back at her, confused. "You can't break in!"

The Phantom faced her, contemplating his response. He had broken into museums and the like countless times, and had stolen things much worse than a lemon or two. This couldn't be so bad... could it? He couldn't simply wait until morning to walk in and buy the fruit. Where was the style in that? Compared to an exciting escapade, an ordinary shopping trip seemed... lame. As he studied Marie, however, her face demanded otherwise.

The way her eyes bore into his heart, striking his conscience with a rough blow, was enough to change his mind. Defeated by the most gentle attack, he sighed. "Alright. We'll have to come back in the morning. Until then, it's late. Let's head back to my apartment."

* * *

_Soaked, tired, and still in this awful dress. Still, no sign of Phantom R! That's it. I'm going home. Wait... I left my key at home! Oh, curse this pocketless fluff of pink. What am I supposed to do now? I can't very well go parading back to Father. Why does my life stink?_

"Hey, Charlie," a voice called from above, "is that you?"

She shut her eyes, turning her face to the second floor window of the apartment building. "Yeah," she groaned. "It's me, Dakota." How could she have been so mindless as to make the mistake of passing Dakota's apartment? Of course, he would be up this late, having nothing better to do than look out the window until she should meander by in her hopeless state.

"Whoa. Are you okay? What are you wearing?" He smiled down at her, looking as though any moment might bring him into a burst of laughter.

She knew that face all too well-his raised eyebrows, his mouth cocked in a dorkish half-smile, his entire face reflecting all the humorous thoughts inside. She had seen it too many times before. Just the same, she found herself smiling back. Maybe coming by Dakota's wasn't such a big mistake.

"Hold on," he called down. "I'll be right there." He disappeared, appearing moments later at the complex's front door. "Can you come in? My mom's asleep, and I'm bored. Whoa..." His eyes looked over the dress, now smudged with dirt, and his face softened, his mouth hanging open as he stared at his friend.

She scoffed. "Yeah, yeah. It's terrible. Anyway, I can hang out, at least for a while. I can't get into my house, and my dad won't be home for some time, so I really have no better place to be."

Giving himself a quick shake, he held the door open, letting Charlie inside. His voice lowered, clogging in his throat, the way it always did when he wanted to make a joke. "Well, well. It seems you have an exciting story for me."

She laughed, glad she had come by. "You're such a dork."

* * *

"Well," Raphael smiled, "we're back." He flipped the lights on, looking to Marie. "You don't mind staying, do you? I mean, it might be a little dangerous for me to take you home tonight, with all of the police force gathered around your house and all, and I couldn't really send you home alone in the middle of the night. Besides," he finished, "I still need your help."

The girl stepped over to him, a questioning look on her face. "I don't mind," she answered, "but I don't understand. What do you need me to do?"

Moving to straighten up the bed-he always forgot to make it on important days-he narrowed his eyes in thought. "My father left me the portrait for a reason," he explained. "It is one of very few works that bear the mark on the coin my father gave me. The fact that it was in Duchess Elizabeth's ballroom means something, and it might be connected to you. Do you know anything about the woman in the painting."

Marie shook her head. "My mother hasn't told me anything about her. I never even noticed her before tonight."

"Huh," he said, only barely disappointed. "That's alright. We'll find out more in the morning. For now," he smiled, turning over the sheets on the bed, "you need to get some sleep. You can have the bed. I have some work I need to finish up."

Too tired to protest, Marie slipped off her shoes, let down her hair, and sat on the edge of the mattress. "Raphael," she began, rather shyly, "thank you."

He looked to her, nodding once, his face pink. "Anything for you, Marie. Goodnight."

She smiled, then slipped into the covers, laying her head on the soft pillow. Soon after Raphael had turned off the lights, she was fast asleep.

As she lay there, her hair lying daintily about her pale face, the boy watched her adoringly. He slipped from his chair, coming to the side of the bed, leaning over her quietly, his hand resting on her delicate cheek. He pressed his lips gently against her forehead.

With that, he grabbed a spare blanket from the closet, and curled up on the floor, his head on Fondue's side. As he fell asleep, his heart brimmed over in joy, love, and thankfulness. In the silence of the apartment, he offered up a simple, grateful prayer. "Thank you, God, for Marie."

* * *

**So, you guys met Dakota. I know you only got a short glimpse of him, but... what do you think? Don't worry. He gets better. (He's seriously one of my favorite OCs, so I hope you like him, too!) ^.^**

**God bless!**

**-LittleBrotherSocket**


	7. Chapter 7 - Another Day, Another Chance

**Wow... It had been way too long since I've updated this story. Sorry, guys. I've been busy with my other stories, I guess...**

**Well, I hope this chapter makes up for it... (Not much happens, but whatever. It's all good, right? ^^')**

* * *

The sunlight sparkled through the window, illuminating the room with a shower of golden morning. Marie opened her blue eyes, blinking as the brightness hit them. Sliding her feet out from the bed covers, she sat up, hanging her legs over the side of the bed. Around them hung the cloud if her wrinkled gown.

She looked around the room. On the floor, buried in a mess of blanket, was Raphael, Fondue curled at his head. His red hair was a mess, and he had apparently neglected to change out of his regular clothing, which was now a sadly mangled ensemble. With his eyes closed shut and his mouth left slightly open, his face was the image of peace and contentment.

As he slept, Marie watched adoringly. He would wake up soon. She wished he didn't have to, or that she at least had brought her violin. If he did have to wake, it would be wonderful to be awoken by something as beautiful as his serenity.

Gradually, his eyelids lifted, revealing the gentle amber hidden beneath them. He looked instantly to Marie, a soft smile spreading across his mouth. "Good morning, Marie," he greeted, stretching out on the floor.

"Good morning," she smiled back. "How did you sleep?"

"Alright. You?"

"Fine."

"Good." He sat up now, spreading his arms above his head as he yawned. "Well," he said, pulling the cover from over his legs, "shall we begin our mission?"

* * *

The sound of cheering rang through the room. A man's bold voice narrated the events of some unknown game. It took only a moment for Charlie to recognize what was happening.

_Football? Dad doesn't watch football._

She opened her eyes, and was met by a fuzzy block of crimson. Confused, she flipped over to examine her surroundings, and found herself in a cozy little apartment sitting room, a mess of food on the coffee table, a heated football game playing on the television before her-the game she had watched two nights ago, she noticed. One look at the scene, and she came fully to, realizing where she was.

"Good morning, Charlie." Dakota walked cheerfully through the door, a bowl of cereal in his hands, his "friendly dinosaur" voice, as he called it, accenting his "kitty face."

Sitting up, she looked at the thin blanket covering her still gowned self. She must have fallen asleep on Dakota's couch while they were watching a movie last night. This didn't come as too much of a shock-she often came to Dakota's house when she was mad at her father, and being mad always made her tired-but she was worried just the same.

"I'm okay for now," she grumbled, "but my dad's gonna _kill _me when I get home."

Her friend sat next to her, setting his breakfast down on the table. "Oh, no," he cooed, almost mockingly. "What are we gonna do?"

"Seriously, Dakota." She tried to keep herself from smiling. Even when she didn't want to laugh, he could always coax at least a chuckle out of her. "I need to get going."

"Come on, Chawalie. You're dad's probably still at the crime scene, anyway."

Charlie's eyes widened. "Phantom R! I still have to go find him!" She stood quickly, preparing to run out of the apartment. As she stepped down, however, her foot caught the hem of that cursed gown, and she fell forward, landing on top of the junk-filled table.

"I really hate this dress."

* * *

"Hey, Raphael," the dark-haired girl greeted, leaning her elbows on the counter. "What brings you here today?" She blew a small bubble with her gum, then popped it with a "snap."

Giving her something between a smile and a smirk, he answered, "Nothing much; just picking up a couple things."

Marie made her way to her friend's side, folding her hands behind her back. The girl took one look at her, them smacked her gum, frowning. "Who's this?"

"Oh," he stared. "Jill, this is Marie. Marie, this is Jill."

"Hey," she said, giving her a nasty sneer.

"Hello," Marie answered politely, quite confused by the clerk's behavior.

"Well, just let me know if you need anything." With another half-bubble and a quick flip of her hair, the girl went back to whatever she was doing.

Raphael cleared his throat. "Alright, then." He made his way to a crate of lemons, grabbed a couple, and was quickly checked out. The trio was out of the store in a minute.

"So," Marie inquired, "why do we need these?"

Lowering his forehead, allowing a playful shadow to fall across his face, Raphael simply replied, "You'll see."

* * *

Charlie ducked beneath barriers of caution tape, dodging wandering constables as she sneaked into the ball room. Having changed into her new detective outfit, she could successfully maneuver without having to worry about tripping on that pathetic poof of pink. Besides, her improved ensemble-a brown jacket, white shirt, black slacks, a black cap, and a red tie to go with her red converse-made her look much smarter than her "ridiculous getup" of the past.

She walked quietly, glancing around for any sign of her father. To her relief, he didn't seem to be on scene at the moment. This gave her a chance to look around. Excited now, she turned, about to make a beeline for last night's corner. She didn't make it more than a few inches, running straight into a block of white-covered muscle. Bouncing back with the impact, she fell to the ground, stunned.

Inspector Vergier looked down at his daughter, placing an exasperated hand on his brow. "Charlotte... I thought I told you to go home."

She rubbed the back of her neck, biting her lip. "Well... I did, but I'm back."

He extended a hand to her, a half-amused expression on his tight, tired face. She refused the help, pushing herself back to her feet.

As she stood, she straightened her cap. "I'm not here to help you," she frowned, pulling back the edge of her jacked to reveal a gold-plated badge. "I can perform my own investigation and come up with more results than your whole team put together."

"Oh," her father asked sarcastically, "can you?"

"Yes, I can," she snapped, "because I have information _you _don't!"

All amusement gone from his face, he looked at her curiously, obviously expecting elucidation.

She smirked. "I'll tell you... once I solve this case." With that, she strode off, leaving her father to gaze after her.

He sighed, shaking his head.

_Charlotte... Why must you be so stubborn?_

* * *

**Well, this might be my last update for a while, unless I can manage to squeeze one in before school starts. I hope you liked it.**

**What did you think of Charlie's outfit? It might be kinda hard to imagine her in it, but... whatever. It looks cool in my head. XD**

**Anyway, thanks for reading! **

**God bless!**

**-LittleBrotherSocket**


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